


yet to surrender (to tales of forever)

by empathieves



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gift Giving, M/M, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 17:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13722867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathieves/pseuds/empathieves
Summary: Molly is a good person who likes pretty things, soft clothes, and luxury. Caleb notices.





	yet to surrender (to tales of forever)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello this was GOING to be a PWP and then it got away from me. Stay tuned for the follow up, which will actually have sex in it, I promise.

Caleb has known Molly for a few months now, and if he had to describe the man in one word it would be this:  _ indulgent _ . He indulges other people as much as he indulges himself, always playing along, playing into it - he’s the only person in their little group who seems to delight in Jester’s assorted nonsense as much as she does. Molly will encourage Nott’s bizarre new ideas for cons, let Fjord talk himself into a stupor about the arcane, accept Yasha’s idiosyncrasies with nothing but a shrug even as she disappears on them, again.

 

He puts on a selfish act, and it’s a good one, but he spends the majority of his time making room for other people to - to do their thing. And his own indulgences seem to be small - he’ll buy new jewellery, some silk, a feather to add to his increasingly gaudy ensemble. He’ll smile at them with his sharp teeth flashing a little in the sun and make a deflecting comment, but Caleb has always been perceptive and he thinks he knows what  _ that’s  _ all about.

 

Molly likes nice things. Soft textures, bright colours. Caleb has brushed past him on more than one occasion and he  _ knows _ that everything Molly wears is almost decadent to touch, supple and pleasant. The tiefling has more scars than Caleb has ever seen on anyone else, and he fights by injuring himself, but every one of his garments is luxurious.

 

It’s possible Caleb has fixated on it.

 

It’s not like it hasn’t happened to him before. He does this, when he’s interested in someone. He fixates and he wonders, imagines. He’s prone to fantasy, to romance novels and the kind of sex that is more about emotion and sensation than getting off. He likes to know that his partner is enjoying themselves. He likes it slow and sweet, taking the time to rock together, the minutes turning to hours and the hours slowing down like honey. He doesn’t have the time to participate in it very often - hasn’t had that kind of sex in years, if he’s being honest with himself - but he looks at Molly, the way he smiles at Nott, the way his clothes are designed to chafe as little as possible, and he wants him. This contradiction of a man, sharp teeth tucked away so he doesn’t scare children when he talks to them, wearing silks even though he’s bound to get blood on them and then soaking them after the fight. 

 

He wants, very much, to take Molly to bed. To savour him, to luxuriate in him, to slide against him. He wants silk sheets and soft, soft skin, the contrasting texture of scars under his hands, the undoubtedly clever tongue. He wants to tuck Molly against his chest and cherish him, lazy and doting, because he’s had crushes before and this isn’t one of those - this is fascination, ease. He finds himself looking at Molly more, even when he could get caught at it. He’s usually better at keeping things to himself, but he likes Molly. He doesn’t think Molly would hold that against him, if he knew.

 

At the next town they stop in, Caleb ducks off for a few hours and buys Molly a silk scarf - too thin for warmth, but it’s been dyed beautiful colours - golds, burgundies, blues and purples. They swirl together and catch the light, and it’s perfect. It’s also incredibly soft - it feels like air turned liquid in his hands, and he feels strange holding it. He doesn’t think he’s ever held anything so decadent.

 

They get rooms at the local tavern, as per their custom, and Beau and Yasha head up almost immediately to the room they’re sharing - he’s pretty sure he knows what’s happening there, but they haven’t said anything yet so he hasn’t pushed. Jester and Nott are drinking, unsurprisingly, and Jester is showing Nott something undoubtedly crude that she’s drawn in her sketchbook. They’ve been rooming together regularly in the last few weeks, and he thinks it’s been helping Nott feel more at ease. Fjord excuses himself fairly quickly - he’s been doing that more lately, and Caleb had never wanted to look at that sword of his more - but then there’s just him and Molly, sitting at their own table while Nott and Jester giggle away nearby.

 

“I got you something.” he says after a minute. He feels - shy, almost. The scarf was expensive, and he knows what it 

could be taken to mean (and it wouldn’t be the wrong meaning to take away, but it’s still a risk and he  _ hates _ taking risks). He pulls it out of his pack and puts it carefully on the table in front of Molly, being careful not to snag the fabric on any splinters.

 

When he looks up, Molly is staring down at the scarf, motionless. His hands come up, and he lifts it gently, the scarf slipping through his hands almost immediately. He winds his fingers in it, his expression something nebulous to behold - there’s fascination there, definitely, and something that seems like joy but might be Caleb’s imagination.

 

“I thought it would suit you.” he says, stumbling over his words a little because Molly still hasn’t said anything, and there’s a definite smile there now - genuine, too, because Caleb can see his fangs. Under the table, he feels something curl around his leg, winding itself around his calf. He knows without looking that it will be Molly’s tail. He’s going to take that as a good sign.

 

“My, my. Caleb, are you  _ courting  _ me?” Molly says, his voice delighted. He grins at Caleb, all teeth, and Caleb can feel himself flushing, the back of his neck heating up.

 

“Would you be averse to being courted?” he says instead. Molly looks down at the scarf in his hands, before lifting it and wrapping it around his neck.

 

“My dear,” he says, and he reaches out and covers Caleb’s hand with his own. “I hardly think the effort will be necessary. But you are more than welcome to continue.”

  
  



End file.
